


1/365

by msheecstazy



Category: Naruto
Genre: 3some, Dirty Talk, Double Penetration, Double Penetration in One Hole, HashiMada, Hurt/Comfort, Kage Bunshin | Shadow Clones, M/M, Praise Kink, hashihashimada, madamadahashi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-15
Updated: 2021-03-15
Packaged: 2021-03-24 06:33:33
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,678
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30068121
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/msheecstazy/pseuds/msheecstazy
Summary: Madara and Hashirama have only one day a year to see each other.A day to meet again, to purge their feelings, to get lost in that mistake.One day a year, and on this one, Hashirama was late.
Relationships: Senju Hashirama/Uchiha Madara
Kudos: 19





	1/365

**Author's Note:**

> Hello. It's me again hihi  
> If there's any error, sorry. It's not my first language and I'm doing it fast.  
> Anyway, hope you like this one.

The leaves crackled under his feet, the warm wind swayed his loose hair, the strands bounced off his face. The moon was rising high in the sky, a practical demonstration that he was late.

Even though he knew that day was special, and even moving his entire schedule so that he could get out of Konoha, sometimes things didn't work out. All meetings were delayed, there was a dispute, there were problems. Personal, political, existential. Hashirama was exhausted, and he was well aware that an angry Madara was waiting for him.

The hut appeared in the distance. There was nothing around, not a citadel, not a stream, not a cave. It was just trees and the house. Night was already falling heavily on the forest, drowning out his steps. The moon was his only source of light, and fortunately, the path was decorated by his feet.

Madara had left the village many years ago. When everything seemed to work for the worst, Hashirama approached him and ordered him to leave, or things would get out of hand too quickly. Fortunately, the Uchiha, after much reluctance, accepted, and now, six years later, they still kept the pact made on that fateful day: they would meet once a year.

Hashirama had no idea where the minor lived, what he did with his life, or what relationships he maintained. He never got a clue. He had sent several people, and none had returned. In fact, he had sent a special ninja after Madara for the last month, and he should have returned last night, before the Hokage himself left for that meeting.

However, nothing again. Maybe it was time to give up. Madara would not give him more than what they had: one visit every three hundred and sixty-five days.

When he left the village, Hashirama felt as if his heart had broken into hundreds of pieces. He still remembered Madara's hair blowing in the wind, shaking as he left on his blue clothes and wooden shoes, the small backpack on his back being all that the Uchiha had. And of course, the line that connected them remained intact, only distancing itself with each step of the child.

Hashirama cried for three days in a row, got drunk with sake, almost vomited his guts, and rose. The years passed, and despite having a soft woman in his bed every night, as well as a smiling son waiting for him on the porch at the end of every afternoon, all he missed most was that specific day he shared with his friend. .

His feet found the main path, and going slowly to the door, he knocked twice, before it was opened by Madara.

He was wearing a black yukata, the tie barely tied exposing so much skin that Hashirama felt the longing to be reborn like a phoenix under the bones.

Madara moved away from the portal, and hovered over the nearest window frame. The hut was that small. There was no kitchen or living room. It was just an average square, the bed just six steps from the front door. There was a bathroom attached, and nothing else. The candles flickered hanging from the corners, the orange light making it even more attractive.

“Interesting ninja you sent this time, Hokage-sama.”

The disdain in Madara's voice at calling him that way aroused a ridiculous sexual flow, his penis already threatening to rise as if it had just come out of the socket.

"You need to stop killing my boys," he replied.

“And you need to stop sending them after me! I don't want anything to do with you other than today.”

Hashirama stood up, approaching the Uchiha, passing his hand over the covered waist, squeezing, bringing him to him, brushing his hips in order to show the effect that the other had on him.

“Why are you so skittish? Didn't you miss me?” He inquired, one hand traveling through the slit of the fabric, almost reaching the clear nipple.

“You were late.”

So that was it. Madara was irritated by the delay. He was about to laugh and mock him in order to provoke, when a pair of hands covered his chest, hugging him from behind.

Stretching from head to toe, it took him a full second to understand what was happening, and even though he did, his body did not relax.

Madara's robe fell to the floor with a thud, and Hashirama dazzled that hand-sculpted body. He was ready to reach out and touch him when the Uchiha interrupted him.

“Sit down.”

Madara ordered and Hashirama's mind threatened to spin. It was like a frozen screen, the background all black, locked. His hands left his body and the person who hugged him appeared in his field of vision, he stopped beside Madara, and the two began to face Hashirama with intensity.

Scratching his eyes, he tried to understand why he had used that specific justu. It was okay that it was part of the daily routine to do it, but why now, when Hashirama had already arrived and everything was fine? And why were they both naked, and the original had a ridiculously wicked smile on his lips?

"Don't you dare get up," Madara ordered again.

“Or we’re stopping”, the other completed.

The Uchiha stretched out his arm until he reached the clone's hair. He tucked his fingers in gently as he pulled him around the waist. His kiss came slowly, subtly. Hashirama could see the original's tongue slide into the other's mouth, the same tone of moan came out of both twin throats and his cock stiffened.

So that was it... he should have known before, but pumping blood from his body had encountered obstacles. One of the Madaras was now sucking the skin of the other's neck, the hickey being given slowly, cracked. Hashirama could see every nuance, every curve. The other was rejoicing as his body trembled under the skillful hands of his shadow.

The mouth reached the nipple and Madara held his hair violently. The urgency grew slowly under the hungry eyes of Senju, mirroring his body whose sexual violence hit every fiber of his bones.

When he threatened to get up, one of the Madaras raised his finger, forcing him to stop the act on the spot. His expression was a mixture of anger and lust.

“Don’t you dare.”

Hashirama can do nothing but fall back on the bed again, his body sagging under the soft mattress. He always knew that Madara liked to surprise him, but that... he didn't know where that had come from.

Madara knelt down, his mouth meeting the skin of his belly. His teeth scraped against the softness of the region, welts appearing in an instant as he descended more and more.

Taking the other's sex in his hand, he licked his lips and after taking a brief look at the viewer, opened his mouth, swallowing him in one go. Madara moaned, and the other Uchiha continued to suck, pausing just before spitting on the phallus, rubbing his saliva for all the remaining centimeters, lubricating it and allowing him to enjoy the touch he had resumed with double fury.

Hashirama could not take his eyes off Madara. He was rigid, feeling pleasure from head to toe. The other Madara sucked on him with lust, his mouth rising and falling at a ridiculously fast pace. When he hit his throat, the original Uchiha tilted his face back and his loose hair slid over his butt.

He wanted to touch him, but he couldn't... Not when he would undoubtedly stop all that without even complaining. Hashirama needed to obey... Until the perfect window appeared. And he knew exactly how to make it happen.

The kneeling Madara moaned as the original's penis whipped his throat, the sound of saliva and the echo of his open mouth was an erotic and engaging symphony. Hashirama loved the pain of waiting. That poignant shiver, the laceration happening live... It was too good to run in the other direction.

When it became clear that Madara was going to come, the clone stopped, stood up, joined the fingertips with those of the double, and both turned to face Hashirama, moving as if they were one.

The two looked at Senju with desire, curiosity, obstinacy. They did not even break eye contact as they approached, hovering face to face with the large body sitting on the edge of the mattress. But when they did, it was to make things even more dangerous.

With the help of the two Uchihas, Hashirama found himself sitting in the middle of the bed, his naked body glistening with sweat, while the original Madara sat on his pelvis in his hand, a tube of lubricant.

As he poured the contents over the hard erection, the clone climbed over his chest, parking one knee on either side of the neck, adjusting himself a couple of times before moving his hips forward and pressing the erection against his closed lips.

These already opened in an instant, accepting the stiffness against the cheek, at the same time that the mouth filled with saliva, as if the taste of Madara awakened his glands like a flood.

Hashirama took him as usual, however, the violence imposed by the Uchiha was different from the usual and he felt the difficulty of keeping up with it growing.

The sex of the clone was pushed further and further, its lips parting painfully in order to accommodate it better. Saliva accumulated in the corner of his cheek as his tongue rubbed along the hard base at the same time that Madara's insides began to swallow its thickness.

The Uchiha had his legs flexed around his hips, and he moved down slowly, allowing his own body to be invaded by the older man's sex. Madara grunted slowly as each inch was overcome.

Hashirama was drenched in sensation, his body overloaded with stimulation. The clone unceremoniously fucked his mouth, pulling his penis back and thrusting forward until it touched the back of his throat.

The original had gone down to the end, Hashirama's phallus being strangled by those soft walls that held him so tightly that he felt his orgasm too close.

Madara rested his hands on her stomach, adjusted his hips and started to move. First slowly, your hips lifted shyly, getting used to it. But just as one second is enough to blow up a bomb, it was also for Madara's body to be ready. The brunette went up and down, riding him like a pro.

Hashirama was unable to speak since the clone continued to penetrate his mouth just as Madara was milking him in the lower parts. The echo of his open mouth mixed with saliva was mixed with the sounds of Uchiha's hips bouncing over his. The pelvis was cracking, the old wooden bed creaked. The two Madaras moaned loudly, in unison, their bodies experiencing different ecstasies.

He was taking his frustration out on himself, and Hashirama had nothing against such an attitude, he even liked it. After all, an eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth.

Allowing the sensations to overwhelm him, Hashirama relaxed on the mattress. The movements continued, increasing gradually. Madara rearranged his hands and opened his thighs, allowing the new angle to make him roll his eyes.

The most exposed interior caused a kind of prodigation in the head of his dick, leaving him at the mercy of a pleasure so tangible that he would have cursed had he not been busy.

He felt Madara's body sweating, the butt band touched his legs and he could feel the small drops that were left behind. The clone had his hands on the wall, supporting himself in a way that would not prevent him from breathing.

Hashirama reached out to touch the forgotten penis of the original Madara, and when he did he groaned and twisted his dark finger.

“What...” he sank his pelvis to the end, rolling furiously.

“did...”

Madara rested his hands against Hashirama's knees and spread his legs, raising his hips again.

“What did I say?” And then he went down again.

Hashirama felt the Uchiha's body dig into his hard flesh. He felt his insides break, receiving him whole. He felt the pleasure, felt the pain, felt everything. Madara started bouncing frantically. The body rising and falling, the hips rocking from the inside out.

He couldn't see it, but he could feel Madara's cock hitting his belly, the noise looking so erotic that he couldn't concentrate on anything else.

And as if he realized this, Madara's clone took things to a new level. He held Hashirama's hair unkindly, shifted his body weight to his dominating knee and sank into his aching mouth.

If Hashirama thought he was uncomfortable before, now he wouldn't be able to count to ten. Madara started to whip his throat like it was a pussy. Shortness of breath burned in his lungs, tears were accumulating in the corners of his eyes. The other bounced hard on his cock, his balls aching with the need to relieve himself.

Madara removed the meat from his mouth and he sucked in the air with such need that his head spun. His lungs burned in relief, his saliva running down his chin like a flood on a summer's day.

Before he could figure out what was going on, Madara sank sex against his throat again. Going deep to the point of pain, the reflex of the muscle wanting to activate, the tears now rolling for real across the flushed face.

Madara withdrew completely, letting him breathe for a while, and then started again. In his pelvis the other Uchiha kept moving, rising, falling, groaning. The sweat was palpable, running down the middle of Hashirama's thighs, his aching balls holding up all the thrusts of the smaller body he owned.

He fell forward again, rolling his hips slowly as he put his weight back on his knees and Hashirama's torso.

The Uchiha's fingers quickly migrated across the naked breastplate. They scratched the skin of the belly, tightened the thick waist, slid and rubbed until they reached the nipples. He pinched them with distinct force, and when Hashirama believed he was free to complain, the clone put the stick in his mouth again.

He could feel the rage in each of Madara's movements, he could feel the rage in every crack of skin, in every lash against his lips. And he had let him have fun for a long time, humiliating him with deprivation of air, with touches, with domination.

Enough. Madara lifted one knee he had just bent to use it as a crutch for new impulses, at the same time that the clone allowed him to breathe.

Taking advantage of the cue, he attacked the twin balls that were standing in front of him. He sucked them hard, feeling the hot jets fall on his hair, while holding Madara by the breeches, holding him in place for a fraction of a second enough to store strength in his hips for then...

“Holy crap!”

Madara scolded, the body bending at a torrid angle as its interior was reached by the hardness of the greatest and was lost in an incredible enjoyment. Hashirama felt his leg bones give way at the same time that the clone in his mouth disappeared at his sight.

Moving deftly, he captured it still in the air, and can witness it lost in pleasure. The instant the clone disappeared, the sensations returned to the Uchiha and all that ostentation of pleasure was much appreciated by Senju.

His orbits were spinning, his mouth was open screaming for mercy, his rigid muscles were riding the wave of all that endorphin... Madara was beautiful coming, and Hashirama wanted to see again.

Without even having to make use of the signals, he conjured a clone of his own.

His copy appeared behind Madara's body, and at that moment he took the opportunity to throw his body weight against the mattress, parking his ass on it and pulling Madara against him, opening his legs, placing him on his belly, straddling it over your penis again.

The Uchiha screamed, pleasure flooding him as his entire body still trembled from the previous orgasm. Hashirama felt the inside throbbing, squeezing it. The clone settled behind Madara, who was propped up on his knees, interspersing the bed with the original.

The look-alike pulled Madara's hair aside and bit his neck, his teeth entering the skin, pulling out another cry from that already saturated throat. Hashirama brought his lips to one of the nipples, and his tongue sucked it gently, while the other pinched the forgotten breast with violence.

He knew that the duality of that act would make him vibrate, and he was right: Madara's insides tightened his grip, his hips were moving in the best possible way since he was so wrapped up in his pleasure that his limbs seemed to lack energy.

Hashirama felt it when the clone stuck a finger inside Madara, the stiffness of the bone collided with his dick and the two moved in sync. The look-alike removed it just long enough to pick up the jar of lubricant that was lying next to the pillow. He poured a lot on Madara's ass, the same slipping on the brunette's penis, facilitating his penetration that did not stop.

Still sucking on the swollen nipples, the original felt the clone stick his finger in again. Then he put on another and started to fuck him at the same rate as his stiffness. Madara was ecstatic, disconnected words came out of her open mouth, sweaty hair sticking to his shoulders and face.

He tilted his face back for air when Hashirama lunged at his prostate and the clone stuck a third finger. The double kissed him as best he could, his tongue brushing his, saliva mixing with sweat, moans coming together through the air.

Hashirama bit the nipple and continued to nibble on all the skin until it reached the waist. His hands were parked on Madara's buttocks, keeping him in the perfect position.

The clone caressed him from the shoulders to the arms, from the belly to the thighs, then pulled away, squeezed more lubricant over his own stick and turned his attention to Madara's back, moving to the crevice that awaited him.

“Hashi-ah!”

He grunted in a sly tone of voice and threw his weight on top of the original Hashirama, leaving his butt cocked in the right way. Madara was perfect like that, he knew what would happen the instant he cast the shadow clone. And precisely because he knew what would come that had been delivered in that way.

Damn Uchiha, always making new holes in his mind. Control slipped from Hashirama's fingers as the double slowly pushed the stick.

The pressure around the phallus that lay inside was enormous. Hashirama could feel Madara's body slowly widen with each new inch that entered. He grunted, holding the hair of the original Hashirama, squeezing so hard it hurt.

The double kissed him on the shoulders, the neck.

“You’re so beautiful, did you know that?”

He eagerly sniffed the white skin and then continued:

“So hot, so soft. You’re so hot, Dara. I wanted to eat you all Day and every day and you woul’d still let me, wouldn't you?”

He continued to recite warm, sensual words at Madara's ear, calming him down, showing him to be able to receive them, to surrender to the pleasure that would come.

Madara's breathing was still high, but his body had reached where it needed to: the clone's sex slid easily, all the lubricant and the previous preparation serving his purpose.

The original rearranged his knees and Madara took the opportunity to move down at once.

The three screamed so loudly that the walls shook, the pleasure as great as a shot of heroin. It ran fast, intense, deafening.

Hashirama held Madara's neck at the same time as the look-alike was pulling him by the hair, the sexes entering together, synchronized in the best possible way.

He squeezed him, strangling him furiously, taking his breath away, making him feel the same way she had done to him earlier. The look-alike had more physical freedom and that was why he had started to move better, however, the friction of hardness and the soft interior of Madara were enough to dissolve in lust.

The Uchiha had a flushed face, the air entered with difficulty through the dilated nostrils. The brunette was in paradise mistreating him and fucking him like that. He had this dark side and he knew that Madara loved him for cause.

Dropping one of the bands on his clear ass, he took it to the forgotten penis. It dripped so much that Hashirama smiled. Wickedness and the will to subdue it by growing like weed; his dick hardening even more.

“You really are a bitch, Dara. There are two cocks inside of you and you don't even complain, on the contrary. You swallow so good that all I think about is sinking them deeper into you.”

Madara moaned, his throat still locked by the warm fingers of the original.

“I love your dick. Look how it looks when it's about to come... Pink, hard...Wet...”

The look-alike approached from behind, pulling his hair even further, forcing Madara to bend a little more, and Hashirama loosened hia neck slightly, allowing the air flow to resume.

“How many dicks do you have inside you?” the look-alike ordered.

“T-two!”

“Say how much you like it.”

Madara looked from the look-alike to the original and he began to masturbate him hard before sticking a finger into the hole at the end.

The hips of the three moved non-stop, all wrapped in pleasure, craving more and more of something that seemed finite. The look-alike snorted against Madara's shoulder, licking the bone from time to time, stopping occasionally to bite him.

The Uchiha was unable to hold the clone's arm for a long time and the breastplate of the clone was all scratched by trial and error. The new each hooked on his skin Hashirama felt more proud and aware of what they were doing.

He couldn't get enough. He admired Madara's face with each new penetration. That face, always so cold and expressionless, was there, full of pleasure, distorted by pain and anger. They were like that, always discounting each other's whimpers that they could not utter aloud.

That was why he loved him. That was why it hurt.

“Hashi, I'm going to come... It's close... Oh god, so close...

“Not yet!

Undoing the justu, he stopped moving for long minutes. The body struggling with the flood of sensations, trying to avoid the damn orgasm at all costs. Madara curled over him, and it was at that moment, when he felt the delicious pressure that was the existence of the naked Uchiha on his body, that he rolled on the bed, forcing him to lie on the only pillow of that bed.

Madara spread his legs and received him in full. Hashirama dipped his face into the damp neck, licking and sucking it, the salty taste of sweat dulling his tongue. He did it on purpose, in order to leave marks on the skin, so that the Uchiha would not forget him anytime soon, being forced to hide the mark of shame from them.

Moving again, he started slowly, passionately. He allowed the smaller body to get used to the single invasion. However, the instant Madara hugged him with his legs, everything collapsed.

Biting him on the jugular, he heard him shout his name and then moved his hips. Pursuing with anger, he fucked him as he pleased. Feeling him glued to himself, enjoying every nuance and every curve, he drowned in the smell, the taste.

He penetrated him as he would with a sword, punishing his flesh, forcing him to give everything he had, flogging him with sensations, making him so intoxicated that his mind would go blank.

“I’m gonna... ah, I...”

Hashirama lifted his mouth from his neck, looking him in the eye, sipping his expression.

“Come for me, yes, come just for me...”

He said in a devout tone, his hips pumping hard. The hair had been grabbed by Madara's fingers, and the pain served as a reminder of everything they had. Madara cried out for his name, repeating it over and over again for as long as his body convulsed in immense and cruel pleasure.

Hashirama needed no more stimulation than that, his orgasm starting an instant after Madara's. His sex throbbed, the jets going out into the smaller one, filling it with its essence, marking its territory.

While he came he sank his face against his hair. His body shook completely when a few minutes later it was all over. He kissed the Uchiha's forehead, receiving a tired and sly murmur.

Madara had softened under him, visibly flooded with endorphins. He loved to see him like this, exhausted, relaxed, without the barriers raised.

Getting out of and on top of the smaller one, she lay on the bed, side by side with him, and watched as they both breathed loudly and hard.

Daylight began to emerge from outside the window, and as the two breaths began to calm down, the body heat also dissipated, making him notice the cold of the morning, even though it was summer.

The wind that came in through the open crack made him feel empty and abandoned. Madara was groggy and there was a small smile in the corner of those stubborn lips. These cut and swollen in one corner, courtesy of him, of course.

Turning on his side and lying on his shoulder, he watched carefully every minute of Madara's body, trying to engrave it in his mind with enough force that it would take many nights to fade.

The deep dark circles, the tousled hair, the lean and muscular chest, the boastful nose and the aristocratic face... Madara was a rare piece.

When the sun's rays hovered over his eyes, he noticed that severe minutes had passed. Madara had fallen asleep, but the light seemed to have troubled him too. The cool early morning air became warm, but it did nothing to relieve what would happen next.

Madara donned the yukata, tying it in the same sloppy way from hours ago. Meanwhile, Hashirama also put on his clothes, arranging his hair with his fingertips.

When he was finished, he went to the door, opening it slowly, as if that would end the pain in his chest.

He went down the two steps in front of the entrance to the house, faced the now clear road, and then turned his attention to Madara.

He was standing next to the jamb, his hair hanging loose because of the weak wind that passed through them. The Uchiha's eyes were watery, and his face was rigid again.

He promised himself not to do that, but it was impossible. Approaching again, he kissed him on the lips. A warm, subtle, soft kiss. Then he kissed the cheeks, the tip of the nose and finally the forehead.

He held his hand one last time, before he felt his fingers part once he started to pull away.

“Go. Your son must be waiting for you anxiously.”

Madara tried to smile, but failed.

“I love...”

“No.”

Hashirama took a deep breath, ignoring the pain that dominated each of his cells.

“Be well, if you need anything, you know where to find me.”

The two stared at each other for a few minutes. Tears were streaming down Hashirama's face, while Madara's were still clinging to his eyeball.

“See you next year, Hokage-sama...”

Without saying anything else, Hashirama turned around without looking back and through the same path he had taken in the dead of night, he returned to his home, his wife, his family.

He was returning to Konoha. His village.

While Madara went to who God knows where.

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading!


End file.
